


until somebody draws blood

by herax



Category: Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Cannibalism, Gen, Hurt Cal Kestis, Hurt/Comfort, I just realised what this tag combination looks like but can confirm Cal does not get eaten, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26812894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herax/pseuds/herax
Summary: Cal learns the hard way that there are worse things than spiders in the jungles of Kashyyyk.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	until somebody draws blood

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompts of 'waking up restrained' and 'archaic medical treatment'. (I'm not doing proper [whumptober](https://whumptober2020.tumblr.com/about) but I am poking at their excellent prompts.)
> 
> The 'implied/referenced sexual assault' tag is for a brief and non-explicit instance but I figured better safe than sorry, tag-wise.

When Cal wakes up to a soft bed, he knows something is wrong.

He moves to grab his lightsaber but his eyes snap open when he realises he’s pinned, arms trapped in place at his sides. His hand is flat against where his lightsaber would be but that loop on his belt is empty and Cal feels panic begin to flare. 

That panic only grows stronger when he looks down to see he’s encased in thick white webbing. It’s familiar enough from all the wyyyschokks he’s fought (and failed to dodge) but this is thicker than the one layer quickly applied in the heat of battle, and he vaguely remembers the sight of three wyyyschokk coming at him in the tangle of the Kashyyyk jungle.

He doesn’t know if it’s a concern or a relief that he doesn’t remember much after that.

The webbing doesn’t break when he pulls against it. It gives a little as he struggles but otherwise keeps him firmly swaddled. It isn’t covering his nose or eyes, he notices, although it is plastered firmly over his mouth, and he wonders if the wyyyschokk meant to suffocate him and failed, or if they wanted him alive for some reason. (Neither rationale is soothing.)

There’s nothing in his line of vision aside from the web-strewn roof of a cave and he does his best to yell through the webbing as he calls, “BD? You there, buddy?”

A series of muffled beeps follow and Cal manages to turn his head to the side a fraction to see the large heap of webbing that is keeping BD-1 contained.

However, Cal’s intended response doesn’t make it out past the webbing when a shadow falls over his face. Expecting to see a wyyyschokk looming over him, he blinks in surprise at the sight of a human man.

“Hey! Get me out of here!” he calls, desperate. “Please, the wyyyschokk-”

“Shhh.” Cal’s eyes go wide as the man crouches down, yellowing teeth bared in a smile. “Glad to see you woke up. I was worried that knock to the head might have done some real damage.”

Cal can only manage a noise of helpless confusion but the man doesn’t seem to mind.

“Sorry about that,” he says, tapping a finger against Cal’s covered mouth. “It’s usually so quiet out here — you new arrivals are always so loud.”

Cal blinks, horrified. Across the room, BD-1 lets out an angry beep which is swiftly followed by the thwick of another layer of webbing being added to his restraints. 

“Your droid is very resilient,” the man says, impressed. “I don’t like droids myself — too mechanical, all that booping and whirring — but I thought it would be rude to get rid of it while you were asleep.”

Cal shakes his head as much as the webbing allows, pleading for the man not to hurt BD-1, but he just gets another rotting smile in return. 

“I think we can talk,” he decides. “You won’t be screaming, will you? Not that anyone can hear, mind you, but I do like my peace and quiet.”

Cal shakes his head in agreement. He’s expecting the webbing on his mouth to be removed but he frowns when the man straightens up, letting out a series of clicks and hisses between clenched teeth. 

He gets an answer as to what it means when something tugs on the webbing by his feet and despite his earlier promise of silence, he shouts into the makeshift gag as he’s pulled slowly off the ground to dangle from the cave’s ceiling, still cocooned instead the webbing.

Below him, a wyyyschokk settles happily on BD-1’s web prison and Cal struggles to breathe through his nose as the man moves in closer again. They’re roughly at eye level, albeit with Cal upside down and the stranger upright, and he looks over the man to try to work out what he’s stumbled into.

He’s much older than Cal, with tangled dark hair that’s turning grey at the temples and a roughly hewn beard to match. His clothes are a combination between imperial uniform and the practical wear of the rebels, cobbled together into a hybrid that seems designed for function over form, and his fingers are long and lean as he reaches out to pick at the webbing over Cal’s mouth.

Cal gasps for breath when freed, his head throbbing as he tries to focus on the man’s face, and his voice comes out in a croak when he asks, “Who are you?”

“Pek Vessak,” the man says with a little bow. “And you?”

Cal hesitates for a second. 

“Cal,” he says eventually, then glances over to the web heap. “That’s BD-1.”

Vessak smiles again, looking like a child who’s been given a new toy. “Very nice to meet you, Cal.”

Blood trickles down into Cal’s hairline and he bites back a wince as his head throbs. “Why are you here? Why am _I_ here?”

“This is my home,” Vessak says with pride. 

He steps back, gesturing around at the cave, and Cal’s stomach turns at the sight of other large cocoons lining the walls. None of them are moving. 

“It was quite a trial getting set up here after the crash but wyyyschokk can be very helpful once you get to know them.”

He makes a clicking noise again and a wyyyschokk descends from the ceiling before scampering over to one of the other cocoons and biting down on its contents. Cal wills himself not to throw up when he sees blood on its jaws.

“Y-You can speak to them?”

“Of course,” Vessak says happily. “I never would have survived this long without their aid. You have them to thank for helping you find your way here.”

More memories surface of being outnumbered, of being wrapped in webbing and dragged along the forest floor until his head collided with a rock, and Cal tries not to let his fear show as he asks, “They bring you a lot of visitors?”

“Fewer than I’d like,” Vessak admits. “It’s quiet out here. People rarely get lost in this part of the jungle, but when they do…” He beams. “It’s so nice to have company.”

“I bet,” Cal says, still watching the wyyyschokk eat. “And how long do your visitors usually survive?”

Vessak’s expression becomes almost mournful at that. “It varies,” he admits. “I do what I can but sometimes they don’t respond well to treatment.” He brightens. “That reminds me…”

He steps in close, his long, clammy fingers coming to poke at Cal’s head wound. Cal cries out at the contact, trying to twist away, but immobilised and suspended as he is, there’s nothing he can do to stop Vessak examining the wound to his heart’s content.

“Still bleeding,” he says, disappointed. “I’m sure we can fix that.”

He turns away and Cal watches warily as he crouches in a corner of the cave. There’s a bedroll there, plus a fire and a makeshift table filled with an array of items he doesn’t recognise. 

Vessak spits into what looks like a small mixing bowl, then adds a soft rock which he pounds down to dust and a squeeze of some kind of sap. With the bowl in hand, he returns to Cal and presses the resulting paste into the cut on his head, apparently oblivious to Cal’s noises of pain.

“Shhh,” he says cheerfully. “Stop fussing. This’ll help.”

Beyond the stims from BD, it’s more medical attention than Cal’s had in years but for the first time he thinks he’d prefer the indifference of the Bracca foremen to whatever kind of insane treatments Vessak is offering.

“Please,” he tries, “please just let me go. I- I can help you get back to wherever you came from — I know the wookiees here, and the freedom fighters. They can help you.”

Vessak’s expression darkens. “I would never align myself with those heretics.”

Cal swallows hard. “The Empire then? They’re looking for me — I’m sure I can lead them to you if you want?”

He cries out in surprise when Vessak grips the webbing around his head and pulls him closer. His breath is hot and rancid on Cal’s face but restrained as he is, he can’t even turn away as Vessak spits, “They are looking for you? You have brought those fools to my door?”

His hand moves to Cal’s jaw, his fingers bony but deceptively strong, and Cal stumbles to get an answer out before the man snaps his neck. 

“No, no! They don’t know where I am, not exactly.” He meets Vessak’s eyes and really hopes he’s lying when he says, “No-one’s coming for me, I swear.”

Vessak releases him, straightening up and sounding almost embarrassed as he says, “Good. Good. We don’t like to be disturbed here, you see, and those suggestions about going back…” He forces a laugh. “That must be the illness talking. These jungles have a way of altering your thoughts sometimes. But with the proper rites, I’m sure I can fix it.”

He turns away again and Cal’s relief at still having his spine in one piece is quickly tempered by fresh panic when he sees the curved knife that Vessak retrieves from his table. It glints in the dim light, crimson stains crusted on the blade and hilt, and he struggles fruitlessly against the webbing as he says, “No, no, please, I’m not sick, I-”

Vessak makes a chittering noise, looking over to the wyyyschokk by BD-1, and Cal’s protests are cut off by a splatter of webbing over his mouth and chin. He thrashes, yelling through the webbing as Vessak gets closer, but just gets a pat to his cheek for his troubles. 

“Hush now, child,” Vessak whispers. “This will help, you’ll see.”

Cal feels himself lowering, the ground rising to meet him as the webbing extends from the ceiling, but he’s stopped before he hits it. Eye-level with Vessak’s patchwork boots, he can’t do anything but shout into the gag as the knife slides in through the cocoon, slicing a deep gash down both his shins. 

His arms are next, the blade digging through fabric until hot pain floods each of his limbs in turn, and then two lines down his stomach. It’s not deep enough to hit any vital organs but it is definitely deep enough to bleed, and Cal looks up at himself as much as the cocoon allows to see the white webs begin to seep red.

“There,” Vessak says, “that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Fighting to get enough air in through his nose, Cal doesn’t try to answer. Rationally, he knows he should fight, that the webbing may be weaker now because of the cuts, but when he struggles, the swinging sensation just makes his head spin.

Vessak says something else that he can’t make out and Cal lets himself go limp in the restraints when Vessak steps away, whistling to himself as he pets the wyyyschokk beside him. 

Blood begins to soak through the webbing and as it it drips softly to the stone floor beneath him, Cal slips into darkness.

———

Cal fades in and out of consciousness more times than he can count.

He seems to have been moved every time he wakes. Sometimes he’s hanging, either upright or upside down; sometimes he’s lying on the ground; sometimes he’s wrapped so tightly in webs that he can’t breathe; sometimes just strands of webbing linger on his wrists and ankles; but he’s always bleeding.

He can barely tell from where anymore — his clothes are soaked with blood, both drying and fresh, and his whole body hurts whenever he tries to move. He feels small, like he’s lost too much of himself to Vessak’s curved blade, but whenever he tries to call BD-1 for comfort or reach Cere on the comm, his voice sticks in his throat.

Vessak’s there occasionally when he comes to consciousness, checking his pulse or feeling his forehead. His hands sometimes roam lower, inspecting the wounds or crawling down over Cal’s body wherever it’s not covered in webs, but each time he wakes to find Vessak looming over him, he’s never sure if it’s real or if it’s his mind losing grip on reality.

Eventually Cal makes it back to consciousness for more than ten minutes at a time. His head still throbs and his body still feels weak but it’s a relief just to be anchored and awake for once.

The webbing is reduced, now just around his arms and legs to bind them together, and he pulls himself up to a sitting position as he looks around. There are skulls beside him, apparently placed there with purpose, and the sickly scent of incense fills the cave as he looks up to where Vessak is mixing something at his table. 

“‘m I cured?”

His words come out slurred and the room tilts slightly when Vessak drops what he’s doing and moves towards him with a smile. 

“Oh, wonderful. I was worried the bloodletting might have been too much for you — you are scrawnier than I thought — but you are very tenacious.”

Vessak crouches by him and Cal fights the urge to lunge at him when he reaches over to check him out. Nonetheless, he keeps still as Vessak inspects his teeth and eyes, murmuring to himself as he does so.

The Jedi are peacekeepers, Cal reminds himself. His reconnections with his training may have helped him in combat but he learned plenty from Master Tapal about diplomacy too. Given that he’s missing his lightsaber, his allies, any back-up and what feels like most of his blood, he decides talking his way out might be the better option here.

“Thank you,” Cal ventures, “for all your help. I was in pretty bad shape after that fight.”

He’s in worse shape now but Vessak doesn’t seem to care as he smiles. “Yes, the wyyyschokk can be quite fierce opponents. You did well getting this deep into the jungles without them killing you.”

“I try,” Cal says. Across the room, a wyyyschokk chomps on another preserved body and Cal ignores his nausea as he asks, “Are most of your visitors like me? People who wandered too deep and lost a fight?”

“Some,” Vessak says. “Occasionally people get lost here — troopers, rebels, wookiees. Then there are the crashes, the exiles, the explorers… Plenty to keep the spirits sated.”

“The spirits?”

Vessak gestures to the skulls that flanked Cal while he slept. “It took me a while to notice them too, but once you’re out here long enough, you feel them working through you.” Cal flinches when Vessak reaches out to place a hand on his thigh. “They can be very supportive if you listen to them.”

Cal’s confidence in his diplomatic abilities begins to fail him but he forces a smile. “Must be nice to have company out here. Aside from the wyyyschokk, I mean.”

Vessak’s hand inches higher. “I’m never alone,” he agrees, “although it is nice to have some more, ah, _physical_ company at times.”

Cal wants to throw up. “Your other visitors?”

Vessak shrugs sadly. “They weren’t receptive to the rites. Still, I hold out hope. There’s so much to be done here with the right partner.”

He finally takes his hand off Cal’s thigh and Cal takes a shaky breath while Vessak springs to his feet. “You must be hungry. I can tell you more over supper.”

He gestures for Cal to sit on a small mat on the floor and turns back to a bubbling pot over the fire. Beneath the incense, Cal can pick out the scent of cooked meat and can’t stop his stomach from growling as he obediently shuffles over to the mat, wrists and ankles still bound with webbing.

“Could you take this off?” he asks, holding his wrists out. “Just for a while?”

Vessak doesn’t respond as he ladles what looks like stew into two wooden bowls. Cal has no idea how long it’s been since he last ate and his stomach growls louder when Vessak sits across from him and sets the bowls down.

His hunger instantly vanishes when he sees what looks like a human finger in amid the dark stew.

“Actually, I think I’m okay,” he tries. “The last, uh, rite kind of took it out of me. I’m not sure I can keep anything down.”

Vessak frowns. “You must eat. It’s the best way to commune with the spirits.”

“I’m good,” Cal says. “Maybe some other time?”

The change in Vessak’s expression is like the flick of a switch. Cal barely gets his hands up in time in time to defend himself as Vessak lunges at him. 

He grabs the front of his shirt, slamming him back to the ground hard enough that Cal almost blacks out again, and grips his jaw in an effort to force his mouth open. “You will listen to them! They will make you understand!”

He picks up the bowl of stew, and despite the exhaustion and the blood loss, Cal feels a panicked surge of force inside him.

Vessak goes flying back when Cal throws his hands up, the bowl of stew splattering over the cocoons lining the walls. For a second, Cal thinks he’s knocked him out but Vessak is on his feet again in an instant as he snarls, “Heretic!”

Across the room, BD-1 beeps angrily but there’s nothing he can do to stop Vessak as he charges back towards Cal and kicks him hard in the chest. The impact knocks the breath from his lungs and Cal drops back, wheezing, as Vessak looms over him. His bony fists rain down solid punches on his chest and face, and Cal uses the webs binding his wrists in an effort to shield himself from the force of the blows. 

Vessak’s anger shows no sign of dissipating and Cal makes a split-second decision to take a different approach. 

He forces his body to go limp, hands slumping down in front of him as he feigns unconsciousness.

The punches stop almost immediately but he keeps his eyes closed as he hears Vessak breathing hard above him, and muttering under his breath, “You’ll see. You’ll see soon. You’ll pay for your disrespect.”

There’s the sound of shifting material as he kneels beside him and Cal stays still until he feels Vessak’s breath on his face again.

He moves as quick as he can, looping his bound wrists around Vessak’s neck and pulling the webbing taut. Vessak’s scream becomes a gurgle as Cal cuts off his air and he thrashes, clawing at Cal’s arms to try to get free. His nails find the wounds on Cal’s forearms, digging into the still-bleeding gashes and Cal lets out a cry of his own as he grits his teeth and tries to hold on.

He’s fought with lightsabers before and occasionally with just his fists on Bracca but he’s never choked the life out of anyone like this. He can feel every pulse of it, Vessak’s heart pounding, his mouth opening and closing as he struggles for air, the panic rushing through him like wildfire. 

The desperation swamps him with the intensity of a force-echo, making Cal feel like he’s the one fighting for his life instead of Vessak, and by the time Vessak finally goes limp against him, Cal’s own chest aches for breath.

He holds on for a moment longer, just in case Vessak’s copying his tactic of feigning defeat, but when his body stays limp and lifeless on top of Cal’s, he unhooks the webbing from around Vessak’s neck and scrambles away. 

He tells himself it’s just the incense and the cooked flesh which turns his stomach as he retches onto the stone floor. It’s been long enough since he’s eaten that bile is the only thing that comes up and he wipes his mouth with a grimace as he looks around the cave. 

The three wyyyschokk are watching him with interest but seem more focused on guarding their food than attacking him, and Cal drags himself over to the pile of webbing covering BD-1. 

It’s a clumsy process digging him out with his hands still bound but he smiles in relief when he gets deep enough for BD-1 to propel himself free. He bonks his faceplate happily against Cal’s nose and beeps out of a series of questions which range from delighted to concerned.

“I’m okay,” Cal promises. “Just a couple of cuts and bruises. Nothing I can’t handle.”

BD-1 gives a dubious boop and pointedly opens the tray of stims. 

“Okay, maybe a stim couldn’t hurt,” Cal admits. 

BD-1 slices through the webbing on his wrists and goes to work on the restraints on his legs too as Cal applies the stim. 

The effect is instanteous, artifical strength flooding through him, and while he knows it’s no substitute for actual recuperation, for the first time in hours — _days?_ — he thinks they might make it out of the jungle alive.

With Cal’s ankles freed, BD-1 gives Vessak’s body a grumpy kick and looks up at Cal with a questioning trill. 

“I think this place just got to him,” Cal says with sympathy. “Must be hard, being alone out here.”

BD-1 headbutts his thigh and Cal smiles, even as the impact jarrs the wound on his leg. “I know, buddy. I’m glad I’ve got you too.”

It takes him a moment to get to his feet, testing his stability and the pain in his limbs. BD-1 flits across the cave, giving the wyyyschokk a wide berth before alighting on a pile of junk in one of the corners. It clanks as he roots through it, lights scanning blue, and Cal smiles when BD-1 emerges with his lightsaber clutched in his feet.

“Thanks, BD.”

The weight is reassuring and is almost (but not quite) enough to calm the tremors that have been running through him since he killed Vessak by hand. BD-1 hovers for a moment, uncertain, but once he decides Cal is sufficiently sturdy, he settles back on his shoulders with a quiet beep.

“I’m okay,” Cal says again. Across the room, one of the wyyyschokk lets out a series of clicks and Cal gulps. “Or I will be once we get out of here.”

BD-1 trills nervously in agreement and Cal does his best not to look at Vessak’s body or any of the cocoons on the wall as they make their way out of the cave. Kashyyyk’s muggy sunlight is a welcome change from the pungent darkness and once they’re clear, Cal leans against a tree to collect himself.

BD-1’s beep echoes his own thoughts and Cal replies, “We got lucky, buddy. Guess we should be more careful next time, huh?”

The jungle stretches ahead of them, the vines and leaves shifting in the wind, and Cal squares his shoulders as they set out once again. 

He really hopes wyyyschokk are the worst thing waiting for him out there.


End file.
